


Setting a Broken Bone

by AppalachianApologies



Series: Bad Things Happen to Matthew Murdock [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Also there's one line that seems a bit Frank negative but I honestly love Frank he's a bro, Broken Bones, But she has a life outside of Matt's Life, Catholic Guilt, Claire is a good person, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Guilt, Hurt Matt Murdock, Hurt/Comfort, I'm gonna be honest, Indulgent Hurt/Comfort, It seems like I'm negative towards all the characters, It's Matt's guilty inner monologue don't attack me, Self-Hatred, Toss in a bit of sleep deprivation for the kids, but I'm not, matt hates himself, there's more hurt than comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:21:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24311947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AppalachianApologies/pseuds/AppalachianApologies
Summary: In which Matt get's a bit hurt while trying to take on a drug ring.But surely, he can't solve this injury by himself, right?(He can't. And don't call me Shirley.)
Relationships: Matt Murdock & Claire Temple
Series: Bad Things Happen to Matthew Murdock [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1755091
Comments: 6
Kudos: 54





	Setting a Broken Bone

**Author's Note:**

> I have challenged myself to do an unofficial Bad Things Happen Bingo for Matthew Michael Murdock. I made a physical bingo card for this, so I'm invested.
> 
> Also- DO NOT LISTEN TO THIS MEDICAL JARGON for the love of God if you break your arm (especially this bad) go to your closet ER or Urgent Care!!

Matt should’ve seen it coming.

But to be fair, he was trying to hold his best against eleven members of a drug ring. Still though, that’s not a viable excuse to have not heard the  _ whizz _ of a rifle being spun around to it’s butt, and then the  _ fwoom _ of it coming towards Matt’s left arm.

He was too busy giving a mean left hook to a man who smelled like cigarettes and cheap beer, while simultaneously kicking another man who smelled like Captain Crunch. And then right as Matt withdraws his left fist, the butt of a rifle hits his ulna straight on.

Matt howls in pain, instinctively bringing his arm close to his chest, trying to ignore the throbbing along with the beating of his heart.

He hears a snide comment about the Devil of Hell’s kitchen being a weak bitch, and the Stick in his mind can’t help but agree. The other dealers laugh alongside with the Stick in his head. 

Matt uses it as a quick distraction, and is able to kick a few more down.

There are heartbeats behind him, and to the right of him, but he can’t keep his ears from focusing on the splintering groans that his wrist makes every time he moves it. 

One of the men gets a lucky punch in his gut, but Matt leans into it, and then in turn uses the force to throw him off his feet and onto his ass. A quick stomp to his clavicle ensures he won’t be a problem any time soon.

The others all fight sloppily, and even with three limbs, Matt easily takes them on, until there’s only a heap of pained breathing and blood. 

Matt forces himself to move before he joins the pile.

Once he’s safely tucked into the shadows of an alleyway, Matt takes a deep breath and lightly prods his wrist.

It’s a mistake.

Pain shoots up into his shoulder and fizzles into his chest the second his fingers come in contact. Matt grits his teeth and tries again, determined to find exactly where the break is. He leans against the dirty brick wall and groans. He doesn’t need to have eyes to know that one of his bones is sitting at an unnatural angle from his arm.

At least it didn’t rupture the skin. Small victories, right?

He can’t fix this by himself though. He would need an extra hand in order to set the bone correctly, not just the help of the corner wall like he does with dislocations. 

Fuck.

_ Fuck. _

Who can he call? Foggy would grab him by the scruff and haul his ass to the hospital, so that’s out of the question. Assuming Foggy would even talk with him.

Ever since Nelson & Murdock ended he hasn’t been too keen on talking.

He could call Karen, but she’d probably drag him to the hospital as well. It’s not like she could do anything else for him.

Frank? God no, he’s not that desperate. 

At least not yet. 

Every second he contemplates, the pain just gets worse, so Matt distracts himself by getting back to his apartment. 

Parkouring across the Manhattan skyline is easier with two arms, but it’s still plenty doable with one. There’s more tuck-and-rolls than Matt would ordinarily go for, but hey, it works.

Once he’s back in his apartment, he nurses his arm close to his chest with a pack of frozen vegetables, but he knows this won’t cut it. 

He digs out his old burner, but his thumb wavers on the call button. 

Goddammit he’s too weak. Stick was right.

Stick was always right.

The phone rings three times, and then is picked up.

“Hey, Claire,” The nonchalant vibe crumbles away as soon as it gets to Claire’s ears.

“Matt.”

Both of them stay silent for a pregnant pause before Claire continues, “Matt. This isn’t a courtesy call, is it?”

“Uh, no. I need your health, er, expertise.” Matt answers, and winces at the garbled sentence. What a shit lawyer he is if he can barely make a coherent sentence.

He hears a sigh from the speaker. “Matt, I’d love to, but I don’t live in the ‘Kitchen anymore. I’ve been in Harlem for, for uh, quite a while now.”

Matt lets out a quick exhale, and uses it to map out his wrist. The swelling is akin to a tennis ball. “I wouldn’t be calling if it wasn’t important,”

Another sigh, “Then you need to go to a hospital, Matt. Or at the very least a 24 hour clinic.”

“I can’t. They’d, they’d ask too many questions, Claire. You know they would.”

There’s a pause that neither wants to break.

Claire eventually does with, “Where are you bleeding?”

“I’m not, not this time. At least not badly,” He adds, eliciting a huff out of Claire. “It’s, ah, it’s my arm. It’s broken. Pretty badly. Through and though.” The last part is quiet enough that Matt wonders if Claire even heard it.

She must’ve though, based off of her low whistle. “Matt, you gotta get someone to set it,”

“Yeah, that’s where you come in.”

“Matt, I told you. I’m in Harlem, I can’t help you every night like I used to be able to,”

Matt can’t help a grin. “‘S not  _ every _ night,”

“Matt.”

“You kept the burner. All this time.”

That throws Claire for a loop. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

“So you obviously care,” Now the years of law school are coming back to him.

“I never stopped caring,” She notes quietly. 

Matt takes a breath in. “I need help from you-”

“Matt, I told you I can’t-”

“Just tell me what to do.”

“What?” Claire asks incredulously, making Matt wish he could hear her heartbeat more clearly through the shitty flip phones.

Or maybe it’s not just the flip phone that’s causing the static in his ears.

“Tell me what to do. How to set it.”

“I can’t, not without an x-ray.” She answers slowly.

Matt takes another steadying breath in and out when the frozen vegetables accidentally shift, causing the bones to grind more. “I can be the x-ray. I can tell you what’s happening inside.”

“No. You hear me, Matt? No. Go to a damn doctor.”

“Claire, please-”

“Dammit, Matt!” She sounds worried, and Matt curses himself for making her worry. This is the reason she left in the first place.

“The end of my radius, it’s displaced.”

Matt hears a quiet, “Jesus,” from the other side, but pretends he doesn’t. “It’s near the styloid process, about two inches,” He pauses, and closes his eyes to listen to his blood pump around his body. “No, two and a half inches away. The break is-”

“Matt,” She interrupts, and Matt snaps his jaw shut. “You can’t be serious. You cannot set your own bone.”

“Claire, you know they’d ask too many questions if I went in-”

“I cannot believe you are arguing with me about this.”

Matt lets her comment fill the air until the sounds of the city take over once again.

“The bone is broken through, and that part of the radius is displaced to the left about thirty, maybe thirty five degrees.”

“See a doctor.”

“Please, Claire, just tell me how to set it,” Matt knows he’s begging, but he can’t stop himself anymore. The doctors will take one look at his face, the black eyes, the bruised arch of his nose, the bloody knuckles. The nurses will weigh him and they’ll see his exposed ribs, his sunken cheekbones, and the way his fingers are as bony as twigs.

After what feels like hours, Claire answers. “It’s your left, right?”

Matt lets his chest sag in relief. “Yeah, left.”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Claire murmurs, knowing full well that Matt will be able to hear it. “Go to your kitchen table, and for the love of God, sit down.”

_ Blasphemy, _ Matt thinks, but follows her instructions.

“Take your suit off. Or at least the top part off.”

In a different world, Matt would make a silly comment about buying a drink first, but he knows that they’ve both moved on.

“Now put your arm on the table, and then turn your arm so the pinkie side is facing the table, and your thumb is sticking straight up.”

Matt gives a quiet cry when he forces his broken arm on the table, and lets the frozen vegetables slide to the floor.

“Okay, make sure that the part of your bone closer to your elbow- the majority of your radius- is the part that’s parallel on the table.” 

Matt complies, but not before setting the phone face-up on the table. He can still hear it just fine, but maybe Claire will hear less this way.

“Got it?”

Matt responds with a pained grunt.

“Okay, you know more what’s going on in that arm of yours than I do, so for the next part, you’re going to have to do most of the work. I need you to put your good hand over the broken piece of bone, so that your palm is over the middle section of the piece. Okay?”

A breathless, “Yeah,” barely comes through Claire’s end.

“You’re doing great Matt,”

“How’d you know?” Matt asks, but there’s no bite to it.

There’s a small sigh on the other end. “I know you, and I know that you’re doing a really good job.” Matt tries not to read between the lines in that sentence.

He doesn’t succeed.

“Now for the fun part.” Claire begins, “You need to do this really quickly, or you’ll make it worse, okay?”

“Mm.”

“Hold your arm really tight, got it? Like really tight, tighter than you think. And press down until it’s parallel with the table and the rest of the bone. Or at least, until you know that it’s in the right place. With your freaky x-ray hearing.” She adds, but it’s devoid of humor.

“Got it.” Matt mumbles, but he most certainly does not. 

Instead of making a move to set his bone, Matt focuses his mind on Claire’s breathing. It’s fast, but it’s strong and steady, just like he remembers it.

“Matt?”

“I’m good, I’m good,”

“Is there still time to convince you to go to the ER?”

Matt forces out a laugh, and pushes down his bone as hard as he can.

He’s forced to listen to his bones rub against each other, the grinding sound permanently etched into his mind.

Matt lets out a yell that’s more primal than pained, and he knows he’s going to get a noise complaint tomorrow morning.

Matt bangs his good fist on the table, trying to distract himself from the pain. 

It doesn’t work.

“-tt? Matt? Talk to me. Matt?”

If only he hung up the phone before this. “‘M good, Claire,” Matt murmurs, resting his head on the table, slightly shaking.

“Matt listen to me, you’re not done yet.” She doesn’t wait for an answer before continuing. “Just because your arm’s back in place, the damn thing’s still broken. You need to splint it, or it will never heal correctly.”

“I know, I know,” Matt says, but makes no move to get up. A few heavy moments pass before Matt speaks up again. “Thanks, Claire.”

Claire internally curses, because damn if he doesn’t sound genuine. “Next time, you’re going to the ER.” Matt barks out a forced laugh, but it still untangles some the butterflies in her stomach. “I’m serious.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, you mentioned that,” It clicks in Claire’s brain a second before it happens. “Oh hell no, Murdock, you are not hanging up on me,”

“I shouldn’t’ve bothered you, not at this hour,” Matt mumbles back, and he knows that if Foggy was here he’d say something about Catholic guilt, but he’s not here.

Foggy’s not here for Matt anymore, and he needs to get that in his head for good.

“Dammit Matt-”

“Have a good night, Claire.” Matt mutters monotonously.

He knows he’s being a dick, he really does.

Matt just can’t bring himself to mend his relationships. Claire left Foggy left, Karen left, Stick left, and Electra- God, Electra.

Matt pretends to not hear Claire’s worried calls as his thumb finds the ‘end call’ button.

Matt sits at the table minutes after the conversation ends, head still on the table while listening to his heart.

His arm still throbs like bitch, after all, it’s broken, but it feels better than before.

The swelling is still there, so he’ll have to be extra careful when he splints it.

He doesn’t splint it though.

He closes his eyes, half of the Daredevil suit still on.

Matt never succumbs to unconsciousness that night.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Comments and kudos do really make my day <3
> 
> Oh also the other fics will have more comfort. It hurt my soul writing this without Matt getting more love, but here we are...
> 
> <3 you all, take care of yourselves.


End file.
